


and if my wishes came true (it would’ve been you)

by someoneyouloved



Series: jiara july 2020 [4]
Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Jiara July, Romance, also some smut, basically 7K words of jiara going on a roadtrip and pining over each other, because we support macking in this house, better late than never right ladies, destination day, i tried to make this fluffy i swear but jj is a sad baby at all times, idiots in love? yeah that’s them, so there’s that, this is just one fluffy angsty mess idk what to tell you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25607515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someoneyouloved/pseuds/someoneyouloved
Summary: Now, JJ hesitates— eyes meeting Kiara’s before flicking away, his throat unreasonably tight as he tried to keep his gaze from wandering to her chest, the arch of her neck. It doesn’t work, though, and JJ would have been embarrassed except Kiara’s doing the exact same thing, something like appreciation gleaming in her eyes as she studied his chest, his abs.“Like what you see, Kie?” JJ asks, but the words fall flat, his throat suddenly dry.Kiara’s attention doesn’t waver, her voice doesn’t shake— like she knows exactly what she’s doing. “And what if I do?”___or the one where jj and kiara go on a road trip together and do a miserable job of pretending they’re not two idiots in love
Relationships: JJ & Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks)
Series: jiara july 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849102
Comments: 14
Kudos: 120
Collections: Jiara July Jubilee





	and if my wishes came true (it would’ve been you)

**Author's Note:**

> honestly i have no idea what this is... it’s literally just a mess of jiara fluff and angst but it’s five am and i needed to post something for destination day so here you go! the ending is also cheesy as fuck, but they (read: we) deserve some smut and fluff in my opinion. hope y’all enjoy xx
> 
> trigger warnings: mentions/descriptions of abuse

The thing is, JJ’s birthday was never something he celebrated.

There were a few reasons why.

For one, before they’d reclaimed the gold from Ward, he had struggled to even put food on the table and pay the bills. He’d never wanted a pile of expensive gifts he couldn’t afford himself, so the Pogues had decided on a limit for birthdays (which Kiara always broke), and opted to throw a kegger at the Boneyard or celebrate at the Chateau with a shit ton of weed and beer. 

JJ loved it, because all he really needed was the Pogues anyway, and while it was easy to entertain a crowd of Tourons or make a scene as he was being escorted from Midsummers by security, more often than not JJ hates when the attention is entirely on him. It’s fine when it’s a joke, or a distraction, but the thought of everyone _celebrating_ him... it makes him uneasy, and he’s not sure why.

Maybe it’s because when he was seven, his mom threw him a birthday party with shiny balloons and a cake shaped like a surfboard, but then his dad came back early from work and sent all the other kids home, started screaming and breaking things after a few beers and left JJ’s cake in a broken pile on the floor of the trailer. 

That night was the first time his father had raised a hand to him— when JJ had made the mistake of getting in between Luke’s fists and his mother’s face. 

His mom had left town less than a year later. 

And that’s the third reason right there: when JJ’s birthday comes round, he’s reminded of his mother, and he tries to avoid _that_ as much as possible.

So, it becomes a pattern, and when JJ turns twenty, he doesn’t even remember it’s his birthday until Kiara shows up at the Chateau with a cold case of beer and a smile on her face.

At first, he just stands there like an idiot, because the last time he’d heard from Kie, she was volunteering at an elephant orphanage in Thailand— after they’d graduated high school, she’d booked a ticket to London and gone off to travel the world like she’d always wanted to, leaving him and the other Pogues behind. 

Of course, they still communicated through an endless stream of texts and snapchats and FaceTime calls, but it wasn’t the same. 

So JJ sees Kie, and it feels like his brain is glitching, but then she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear like she always does when she’s nervous, the gesture so familiar that it hurts, and he surges forward to hug her.

JJ’s first thought is that she smells different— there’s a hint of that lemony-scented body wash she uses, but it’s buried beneath the scent of earth and spices she must have picked up on her travels. He finds that he likes it, even though change isn’t something he typically enjoys. 

He hasn’t seen her since Christmas, when the Pogues had reunited at the Chateau for two weeks during Pope’s winter break. Kiara had flown up from Brazil with a new tattoo in the shape of a wave and a shit ton of stories, carrying a backpack three times her size on her shoulders. 

But now she’s here, and JJ doesn’t even care why, because fuck it, he’s _lonely_. Pope’s away at college and John B’s in California with Sarah, so he’s been by himself for months, and he’s sick of it. 

He doesn’t realize how hard he’s squeezing Kiara until she starts squirming and squeaks out the words, “JJ, you’re crushing me.”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he says, taking a step back, though he doesn’t miss how Kiara’s hands linger on his arms for a moment longer than necessary, as if she doesn’t want to let him go either. “I just— fuck, Kie, what the hell are you doing here?”

Kiara laughs, shakes her head. “Very funny, JJ.”

He frowns, confused. “What’s funny?”

Kiara raises her eyebrows at him, as if it’s obvious. “Wait, are you being serious right now? You do know what day it is, right?”

“Uh...” JJ trails off, goes to check his phone but realizes it’s inside the Chateau, probably shoved between the couch cushions. “No?”

Kie gives him a _look_ , a mixture of amusement and disbelief in her gaze, and JJ starts to panic, racks his brain for whatever he’s missing because it’s obviously important. 

“JJ,” she sighs, sounding throughly exasperated, pulling out her phone and shoving it in his face. “It’s your _birthday_.” 

He doesn’t think she’s _wrong_ , but JJ glances at the date just to be sure, and of course, it’s June twenty-eighth. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, dipshit. _Oh_.”

At first, JJ can’t really bring himself to care, but then he realizes that this means Kiara flew halfway across the world to visit him on his birthday, and he has no idea _what_ he’s supposed to do with that.

“Wait,” he says, still trying to put the pieces together. “Why are _you_ here, though? Shouldn’t you be off saving elephants or some shit?”

It’s a reasonable question, but Kiara won’t meet JJ’s gaze all of a sudden, an odd flush to her cheeks as she says, “Oh, you know, I was getting kind of homesick. And then I realized you were going to be all by yourself today, so...”

She trails off, and JJ can tell there‘s something she isn’t saying, but he decides to let it go. Because Kiara’s here, and fine, maybe he missed her more than he’s wanted to admit, even to himself.

So, he wraps an arm around Kie’s shoulders and leads her inside the Chateau, insisting they crack open some of the beers she’d brought.

It’s Sunday, so JJ doesn’t have to go to work at the marina (not that he needs the job considering the shit-ton of money in his bank account from the gold, but he likes having something to keep him busy), and it’s not like he had any plans, so Kiara and him end up lounging in the hammock at the Chateau, making their way through the case of beer and his stash of weed.

It turns out that while Kie’s alcohol tolerance has increased, her access to weed is somewhat limited, so it only takes a few drags from the blunt until she’s relaxed and giggling, her head leaning against JJ’s shoulder as he listens to her talk about the elephant orphanage she’s been volunteering at.

Kiara goes through the camera roll on her phone— it’s full of cute videos of elephants and old ruins, plus a few selfies of her with the other volunteers, cheeks flushed and hair frizzy but grinning from ear to ear. JJ’s not going to lie, it stings a little, because he can tell from the sound of her voice and the warm glow in her eyes that’s not entirely from the weed that Kie’s _happy._

And of course, it’s not like he wishes she wasn’t, but he can’t help but wonder if Kiara was ever that happy with the Pogues— because personally, that’s the happiest JJ’s ever been. 

The thing is, Kie’s been talking about traveling the world ever since he met her, so JJ’s not sure why her finally making good on her word had hurt so much. 

Maybe it’s because Kiara leaving was kind of the catalyst for the inevitable breaking up of the Pogues, because not long after they’d said goodbye to her, Pope left for college and John B and Sarah moved out to California, and JJ... stayed here. 

He doesn’t blame them for getting out, of course, or at least that’s what JJ tells himself. He’d always known that Pope’s future lied outside of the Cut, and that there were too many bad memories here for John B and Sarah to be truly happy if they stayed. 

And he knows it’s irrational to think of it as them abandoning him, because that’s _not_ what this is— they all still call and visit and make plans for the future. 

Besides, it’s not like JJ’s trapped here. With his share of the gold, he could travel anywhere in the world, get one of those big mansions he’d always talked about and go full Kook, never have to worry about work or fixing the leaky sink at the Chateau ever again.

He should probably just bite the bullet— escape the Cut before it’s too late and he’s a washed-up alcoholic like his father, but JJ can’t help but feel like once he leaves that’s _it_. 

Because what happens when there’s no one living at the Chateau, or driving the HMS around the marsh? He knows that people move on, that his friendship with the Pogues is bigger than a place, but there’s something about leaving that’s a little too final for JJ’s liking.

He wonders if Kiara can somehow sense what he’s thinking about, because she gets the kind of quiet that means she wants to ask JJ something she thinks he’ll react badly to.

She tips her beer back, swallows the dregs from the bottom, and he tries not to let the sight distract him as she says, “J, can I ask you something?”

JJ almost wants to say no, but since when has he been able to deny Kiara anything? “Yeah, of course, Kie. Shoot.”

“Do you ever think about... leaving?”

He knew it was coming, but the question still makes his heart race, and he takes a long drag from the joint in his hand to avoid answering right away. 

“Sometimes,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders. “But it’s not like it’ll ever happen. I mean, this is home, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Kiara murmurs, chewing on her bottom lip. Her chin is digging into his chest, and it’s a tad uncomfortable, but JJ doesn’t even think about moving. “I guess. It’s just... don’t you get lonely?”

JJ sighs, leaning back in the hammock and taking another hit from the joint. “Damn, Kie, you’re really not pulling your punches tonight.”

“Sorry,” she says, wincing a little. “I just worry about you, you know. We all do.”

JJ hopes she doesn’t hear his breath catch, wraps an arm around Kie’s neck and messes with her hair to hide the strange burning sensation in his eyes at the confession. 

“Aw, Kie, how sweet,” he teases, ignoring her weak protests and attempts to shove him off of her. “Didn’t know you cared.”

He means it as a joke, and Kiara’s laughing underneath him, but when he eventually lets her go and she collapses back into his side, her hair tickling the bare skin of JJ’s shoulder, she gets quiet again.

He’s still surprised, when she sighs and whispers the words into the night-chilled air. 

“I do, JJ. I do care. You know that, right?”

JJ never knows how to act when Kiara gets like this— as if she actually gives a damn.

“Yeah, Kie, of course,” he says, his voice a little too soft for his own liking, but it’s worth it when she smiles and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Happy birthday, JJ,” she murmurs a few moments later, her voice heavy with sleep, his hands in her hair and her fingers tracing light patterns on JJ’s chest through the fabric of his t-shirt. “Love you, you know?”   
  
It’s stupid, but JJ’s heart jumps out of his chest, and it takes him way longer than it should to form a proper response. 

”Thanks, Kie.”

He blames it on the weed— Kiara’s sudden outburst of emotion, how his own voice cracks when he says the words, the fact that they’ve slept together in this same exact hammock a million times before and it shouldn’t feel as intimate as it does right now. 

Even then, JJ knows he’s lying.

Because it’s not just the weed, it’s something more— a new, molten warmth in his chest he hasn’t felt since Christmas, when Kiara and him were drunk on eggnog and dancing in the Chateau’s kitchen to the music blaring from the old stereo they’d dug out of Big John’s study. 

JJ knows he’s in trouble, but he’s known that for a while. Because Kiara’s the kind of person who gets antsy if she stays in the same place for too long and wants to save the world, and she deserves far better than some soon to be washed-up kid from Cut. 

And it hurts, but it’s okay, because JJ can live with it as long as he gets to have Kiara like this, even it’s just for tonight. 

✘✘✘

When JJ wakes up the next morning, the sun shining through the branches and his back aching from spending all night in the hammock, Kie’s no longer sleeping beside him. 

He doesn’t think anything of it at first, but then he checks the Chateau and she’s not there either, and he realizes that her car’s gone.

There’s a moment where he wonders if last night had been a dream, and JJ tries to remember how much weed he’d been smoking, but then he hears the low rumble of a car engine and Kiara’s Nissan pulls into the driveway.

“Morning!” She chirps as she bursts into the Chateau, a cooler in one hand and her favorite water bottle in the other, pressing a kiss to JJ’s cheek and heading towards the kitchen before he can say anything. 

And he knows he looks like an idiot, but JJ just stands there, his cheek burning where her lips had touched his skin, trying to remember when Kiara started _doing_ that— like it was no big deal. 

Fortunately, Kie doesn’t seem to notice, a determined furrow between her brows as she drops the cooler she was carrying and starts searching through the fridge. 

“Uh...” JJ trails off, trying to figure out what she could possibly be looking for. “Can I help you find something?”

“Do you really not have anything to drink in this house besides beer?” Kiara asks, not even bothering to poke her head out from inside the fridge.

“What else would I need?” He answers, only half-joking, because he’s decided one of the few perks of living alone is that he doesn’t have to worry about John B raiding the fridge in the middle of the night and stealing all the alcohol.

“Uh, I don’t know... water?”

JJ gestures towards the sink, but she just wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “I have seen that water turn brown too many times to trust it.”

Then, before he can ask what all this is about, Kiara turns and frowns at him, as if JJ is equally dissatisfying as the Chateau’s beverage options. 

“You should shower,” she tells him, checking the time on her phone. “Ferry leaves in an hour.”

JJ pauses, briefly wonders if he’s woken up in some parallel universe where he’s supposed to understand everything Kiara is saying. 

“I’m sorry, _where_ are we going?”

That, at least, seems to make Kie realize how weird she’s acting, because her eyes flick up to JJ’s and she pauses her stocking of the cooler.

Kiara stands, drifts closer until she’s right in front of him, and JJ gives himself a second to take her in— her hair’s been wrangled into a bun, held in place by a dark orange bandana, her cheeks flushed and damp with sweat. 

Before he can make a comment, something to ease the strange tension that’s sprung up between them, Kiara pats him on the cheek and says, “It’s a surprise.”

She’s out the door before he can argue, yelling at him to shower over her shoulder, and JJ has no idea what’s going on, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt to get dressed before he finds out.

He emerges from the Chateau fifteen minutes later to the sight of Kiara struggling to mount their surfboards onto her car, leans against the porch banister and sips his coffee instead of offering to help. 

“You gonna tell me what the point of all this is?” 

“I told you,” Kiara sighs, still panting a little from the weight of the boards. “It’s a _surprise_.”

“Well, surprise or no surprise, I have to get to work, so—”

“Wait, JJ—”

He’s already heading towards his bike when Kiara grabs his wrist and tugs him backwards. 

“I just wanted to take you somewhere for your birthday,” she says, the look in her eyes pleading, maybe a little desperate. “Besides, it’s not like you need the money.”

JJ sighs, runs a hand through his hair and gives Kiara a hard look. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

He’s not sure why he’s digging his heels in like this, but for some reason, he has the feeling that Kiara’s not telling him something— that there’s _more_ to this. 

“Kie, if this is about the whole leaving thing—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kiara says, but she’s biting her lip and kicking at the ground with her sneakers, refusing to look directly at him, so all in all it’s not very convincing.

“Kiara—”

“They’ll be surfing.”

“There’s surfing here.”

“Please?” 

Well, now she’s playing dirty, because Kiara knows JJ can’t say no when she does that— it’s like kicking a puppy, or turning down free booze. Unthinkable. 

“Fine,” he relents, trying to sound pissed off, though he knows he’s doing a poor job of it. “But this better be worth it.”

“Oh trust me, it will be.”

✘✘✘

The drive takes about three hours, and it’s mostly them fighting over the aux cord and Kie complaining when JJ puts his dirty boots on the counsel. 

But he’s not going to lie, it’s nice, because JJ didn’t realize how much he’d missed Kiara until this moment— or maybe he had, and he just didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

His calls his boss, a guy named Tony who works at the marina, and asks for the day off, which is surprisingly easy because he has a shit-ton of vacation days saved up— probably because he’s used to working overtime and taking any shift he could to make extra cash. 

Tony knows Kiara too, and JJ makes the mistake of mentioning that she’s back in town and forcing him to take a break from work. Apparently, this isn’t something _friends_ typically do, because his bosses tone is a little too suggestive for JJ’s liking after that. 

_It’s not like that, Tony._

_Whatever you say, kid. Enjoy your day off. Where are y’all headed?_

_You know, I wish I could tell you._

JJ shoots Kiara a pointed look as he says that last part, but she keeps her eyes on the road in front of her, taps her fingers against the steering wheel and hums along to the music.

But JJ’s nosy even when the secret isn’t about him, so he pays special attention to the road signs as they drive, trying to figure out what direction they’re headed in. 

They eventually reach Virginia, and JJ almost asks Kiara if she’d lied when she said this was going to be a day trip, but then they pulled off the highway and onto a side road. 

JJ thinks about the surfboards tied to the roof, the strap of Kiara’s bikini that’s peeking out from underneath her shirt, how she insisted he pack a swimsuit. 

“Virginia Beach?” He asks, tilting his head towards her, a smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. He’s been to Virginia with Pope before, and they’d surfed at the beach, but the waves had been subpar at best compared to the ones back home. “That’s the surprise?”

“Nope,” Kiara answers, popping the _p_ , her smile mischievous enough to be a tad unnerving. “Do you really think I’m that basic, Maybank?”

“‘Cmon, Kie,” he whines, mimicking her pout from earlier. “You have to tell me, I’m going crazy over here. Please.”

But Kiara clearly isn’t as affected by JJ’s begging as he is by hers. “You really can’t be patient, can you? Big baby.”

The last words are followed by her ruffling his hair with a hand, and JJ glares at her, forces himself not to lean into the touch as he sighs and falls back against the seat. 

It’s not helping that he’s been stuck in the car for almost three hours now, Kiara having denied his request to stop for food. She’d packed sandwiches, but JJ had inhaled his and stolen half of Kie’s and _still_ been hungry.

_But the tacos, Kie! I’m a growing boy._

_You have the mind of a five-year-old, you know that right?_

He doesn’t even realize he’s bouncing his leg until Kiara reaches over and places her   
hand on his thigh to get him to stop. 

As far as distractions go, it’s a good one— JJ freezes, his heart caught somewhere between his throat and his ribcage at the reality of Kiara’s hand on his leg. 

Her thumb traces circles against the skin of JJ’s knee, and he risks a quick glance in her direction, but if she finds anything weird about the situation she doesn’t show it.

It’s not like Kie never touches him, this just feels... different, a little more personal— like they’re crossing some line he didn’t even know was there. 

JJ starts tugging at the bracelets on his wrists, lingering on the black and white one Kiara had given him in middle school, back when he still thought she was a Kook who’d ditch the Pogues the moment she got a better offer. 

And she kind of did, once, but after everything they’ve been through, Kiara’s Kook Year feels like a distant, unimportant memory.

Her traveling the world is a little different, JJ thinks, but not entirely. He misses her more now, but it also proved that Kie was going to keep coming back, no matter what.

That’s the important thing, JJ decides— that Kiara always comes back.

And he’s not about to do anything that might screw that up.

✘✘✘ 

Kiara removes her hand from JJ’s leg somewhere between Chesapeake and Norfolk, and he resists the urge to ask her to keep it there. 

They pass Virginia Beach, trade the crowds and the boardwalk for side streets and sand dunes. It’s not even a parking lot that Kiara finally pulls into— just a slot of concrete on the side of the road.

JJ raises his eyebrows at her, but she just smirks and tells him to get the boards off of the roof, wrangles her hair into a bun and grabs the cooler before directing him towards a small path that heads into the woods. 

The walk is only about five minutes in total, maybe three if JJ hadn’t tried to climb a tree until Kiara yelled at him to simultaneously get down and hurry his ass up, but then he glimpses water through the trees and the beach comes into view.

He can see why Kiara had selected it immediately— it was practically deserted, with soft, golden sand and waves that formed barrels and crests before crashing against the shore, and it was lacking the crowds of tourists they’d seen before. 

“How’d you find this place?” JJ asks, already tugging his shirt over his head, the scent of the salty air and the waves triggering a familiar pull in his chest. 

“A couple I met in Bolivia recommended it to me when I mentioned I lived in North Carolina,” Kiara explains, gesturing towards the water. “Apparently, it has some of the best waves on the East Coast, even better than Kildare sometimes. So, I... I thought you’d like it.”

It takes JJ a second to notice the shift in her voice, for him to realize that Kiara’s actually _nervous,_ as if she’s worried he’s not going to like it. Which is stupid— he’d like anything Kiara did for him, and this...

“You do like it, right? I know it’s not that big of a deal, but—”

“I love it,” JJ tells her, and it’s almost instinctual to reach out and take her hand, brush his fingertips over her skin in reassurance. “Now, we surfing, or what?”

Kiara laughs, her hand sliding away from his as she tugged her shirt over her head, telling JJ to start without her and that she’d catch up. 

JJ didn’t need to be told twice— he was in the water almost immediately, paddling out towards a cresting wave. The surf was similar, if not better, than it was at home, but it was enough of a challenge that his chest was soon aching from hitting the water, his eyes burning from the saltwater.

It might have had something to do with the fact that Kiara had joined him, and it was harder to focus when JJ was busy watching her body twist and snap over the waves. 

Kie always looked good when she surfed, and today was no exception— her red bikini was vibrant against her tan skin, the muscles in her legs flexing with each landing she stuck, her hair wet with saltwater and eyes glowing with this pure, untainted happiness that did something funny to JJ’s brain and made it hard to think. 

The sun was setting by the time he emerged from the water, and he made his way towards where Kiara was lying on a towel further up the beach. It was rare anyone outlasted him in the water, but she’d dropped out even earlier than usual today, claiming jet lag. 

Her eyes were closed when he reached her, but then JJ shook out his hair above her, and Kiara shrieked as the water droplets hit her skin. “Fuck, JJ, I was dry!”

He stops when she starts kicking sand at his legs, drops his board onto the ground and plops himself down beside her. 

He watches Kiara comb her fingers through her hair, readjust her towel. There’s a taunt on the tip of JJ’s tongue, one about how she looks good in a bikini.

He would have said it without thinking once, back when flirting with Kie was just something he _did_. It was their thing— he’d make a comment, she’d laugh and playfully shove JJ in the chest, maybe play along if she was in the mood to catch him off guard. 

Now, JJ hesitates— eyes meeting Kiara’s before flicking away, his throat unreasonably tight as he tried to keep his gaze from wandering to her chest, the arch of her neck. It doesn’t work, though, and JJ would have been embarrassed except Kiara’s doing the exact same thing, something like appreciation gleaming in her eyes as she studied his chest, his abs. 

“Like what you see, Kie?” JJ asks, but the words fall flat, his throat suddenly dry.

He waits for her to stop, for Kiara’s cheeks to go red, for her to turn away and mumble an apology like she used to. 

But Kiara’s attention doesn’t waver, her voice doesn’t shake— like she knows _exactly_ what she’s doing. “And what if I do?”

_This is the part where you say something, idiot._

But JJ is at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly but no sound coming out. Well, so much for playing it cool.

His reaction seems to jerk Kiara out of whatever trance she’d fallen into, and she clears her throat before rising to her feet, her gaze purposefully anywhere but JJ. 

And it makes no sense, but he feels like he’s done something wrong, as if the past few minutes had been a test and he’d failed. Badly. 

Kiara’s probably just playing with him, but... what if she isn’t? 

The thought settles like a stone in his stomach, and JJ opens his mouth to say something, maybe stumble through an apology even though he’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to be sorry for, but Kiara cuts him off before he can begin. 

“Wanna get drunk?” She asks, the absence of a hand offered to help him up glaringly obvious, her voice a little too light to be casual. 

But JJ lets it go, because he could _really_ use a drink right about now.

“Fuck yes.“

✘✘✘

In JJ’s book, alcohol is never a bad idea.

This theory holds once he’s five shots of tequila in, watching Kiara twist and turn her body to the music on the dance floor of the very crowded, very loud bar they’d holed up in over an hour ago. 

It’s kind of like watching her surf, except that the alcohol has definitely gotten to Kie too, so her movements are more relaxed, the tension that had lined her shoulders on the drive over having vanished completely after she’d slammed her second, empty shot glass down on the surface of the bar. 

It could also be because she’s not around JJ anymore, doesn’t have to worry about their fingers brushing like they had when he’d handed her his jacket to pull over her crop top and shorts, or him placing a hand on her back like he had when they’d entered the bar.

It’s not just her who’s on edge— ever since they’d left the beach, JJ felt like he was about to jump out of his own skin whenever he so much as _looks_ at Kiara.

He honestly doesn't know why it’s so difficult to be around her all of a sudden— maybe it’s that she’s been gone for so long and he forget what it was like, but JJ doesn’t think that’s it. It’s more that Kie’s finally reciprocating _something_ , and he has no idea how to deal with it. 

And JJ knows that he should probably keep his distance until he figures out what the fuck is going on, but then Kiara’s beckoning him over, screaming at him to dance with her.

And if this situation’s taught him anything, it’s that he can’t say no to her. 

So that’s how JJ finds himself standing in the middle of the dance floor, Kiara’s arms around his neck as they sway to the beat, her hips practically grinding against his. 

It’s nothing they haven’t done before, and for a moment, JJ thinks he’s reading too much into everything. But then the song changes, the fast-paced pop that had been blaring from the speakers shifting into something softer, slower, and Kiara’s not moving away— she’s getting closer. 

“Kiara, what—”

“Happy birthday, JJ,” she whispers, and then her lips are on his and he has a hard time thinking of anything else— because holy shit, Kiara’s kissing him, and he kind of never wants her to stop. 

It’s the fact that it’s unmistakably _Kie’s_ lips against his that does it for him, the same lips JJ had watched curve around the neck of a beer bottle or press a kiss to John B’s cheek. 

It’s that the whole thing just screams Kiara— the tequila on her breath, the scent of her invading his senses as she wraps an arm around JJ’s neck and pulls him closer, closer than he ever thought two humans could be, had the _ability_ to be, and just like that, it’s all too much. 

JJ recoils as if he’d been burned, stumbling back a step and almost knocking into someone, his brain trying to catch up with his body and understand what the fuck just happened. 

He can still smell her— that hauntingly familiar scent of sunscreen and lemongrass, tainted by the alcohol they’d both consumed— and JJ knows he has to get out of here before he does something _really_ stupid.

Like kiss her again, which definitely can’t happen if he wants to salvage any of this.

JJ doesn’t allow himself to even _look_ at Kiara before slipping through the crowd and ducking behind the bar, ignoring the bartender’s protests as he located a door that presumably led to a back alley behind the building.

It did, and then JJ could finally breathe as he stood in the dark alleyway, the stench of cigarettes and cheap beer drowning out the lingering traces of Kiara that were still clinging to his clothes, to _him_. 

But before he has a chance to process what just happened, there’s the sound of feet against pavement, and then he hears her voice. 

“JJ?”

He purposely keeps his back turned to her, because he chose the back exit for a reason. JJ just needs a moment to breathe, to collect his thoughts before heading back inside and reassuring Kiara that it didn’t mean anything, and it doesn’t have to.

And Kiara can usually tell when JJ isn’t ready to be pushed, but apparently, this isn’t one of those times.

“JJ, please, just talk to me—”

It’s the sound of her voice that does it, the desperation behind it, that ignites the simmering fire in JJ’s chest.

“Fine— What the fuck was that, Kie?”

The words are harsher than he wants them to be, but there’s something hot and ugly rising in him, and JJ really doesn’t feel like playing nice while he waits for her to reject him all over again.

“I’m sorry?”

Kiara sounds more pissed off than upset now, which is good, because JJ is looking for a fight.

“I mean, honestly, what’s your deal?” He asks, surging forward until they’re face to face, trying to pretend that Kiara’s flinch doesn’t feel like a stab in the chest. “Was it the alcohol? Or did you just think: huh, haven’t kissed JJ yet, why don’t I try it out, complete the triangle? I mean, you macked on Pope and John B, so why should I be surprised?”

“It wasn’t the alcohol, JJ,” Kiara murmurs, her voice painfully soft. 

JJ scoffs, kicks a nearby dumpster and reels back a step. He wants her to fight back, to give him something to work with, but she’s just watching him with those stupid, sad eyes of hers. “Then what the fuck was it?”

“I don’t know, I just thought—”

“What? That we’d kiss, fall in love, run off into the sunset and live fucking happily ever after? Newsflash, Kie, that’s not how it works, okay? And I was fine with that, but then you had to go and—”

He breaks off, not even sure where he’s going with all this, the anger evaporating from his body as quickly at it had arrived. He knows he shouldn’t be pissed at Kie, it’s not her fault, and the last thing JJ wants to do is ruin their friendship over something as stupid as a drunken kiss. “Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“What do you mean you were _fine with it_?” Kiara asks, interrupting his apology, her voice low and soft like she’s afraid of scaring him off. “Fine with _what_?”

JJ considers lying, the excuse already on the tip of his tongue, but it’s late, and he’s drunk and tired of pretending everything’s fine when it isn’t. “Fine with you, with _us_ , being the way we are. And it is _fine_ , Kie, really, but kissing me like that... it’s just a reminder that we’re always going to be just friends and nothing more.” 

Kiara pauses, tilts her head to the side, and if there was ever a moment where JJ wished he could read her mind, it was right now. “Is that what you think we are? Just friends?”

The question doesn’t even compute in his brain, because it makes it sound like there’s a possibility of it being something _more_ , and that can’t be right.

“I mean, yeah, of course—”

“Really?” Kiara says, walking towards him as she talks but keeping her movements slow, like JJ’s a wild animal that’s about to spook. “Because I don’t.”

“You... what?” 

JJ’s never been more confused in his entire life, because if he had to choose a word to describe the look in Kiara’s eyes it would be _hopeful_ , and then she’s close enough to touch, laying her hand on his shoulder, right above his heart. 

JJ’s chest is heaving underneath her palm, and he tries to make his mouth form something semi-coherent, but all that comes out is, “Kie, what—”

It’s all he manages to say, because then Kiara’s kissing him, and JJ has more important things to worry about. Like how her lips are warm and soft against his, how she’s leaning into his touch instead of pulling away, and it doesn’t make any sense, because this kiss feels like the exact opposite of unintentional.

And it’s not like he’s not into it, but Kiara must be able to tell that JJ’s kind of panicking, because she tilts her head back to look at him as she says, “Apparently, I need to spell it out for you: I like you, JJ. I have for a while now.”

The words cause something funny to happen to JJ’s heart, like it’s being torn into a million pieces and being put back together all at once. Because Kie, she really... _fuck_. 

“Like, _like_ me, like me?” He asks, still wondering how this conversation is even happening. It’s mostly a joke though, because JJ thinks he gets it now, so he wraps his arms around Kiara’s waist as he says it, pulls her close.

“Finally caught on, have you?”

This time, JJ’s the one who kisses her, and it’s even better than before. Because now he knows that she means it, and he doesn’t have to hold back anymore. 

And he doesn’t— uses all the experience he’s gotten from macking on Tourons as he pins Kiara to the brick wall of the alleyway and kisses her senseless.

It’s hot and hurried, fueled by the kind of desperation that only comes when two people who have been holding back for years finally let go. JJ has one hand braced above Kie and the other fisted in her hair, his lips on her neck as she whimpers and moans— the barely-coherent sentences coming out of her mouth all involving the words _fuck_ and _JJ_ and _god, yes, right there._

Kie’s lips taste like tequila and that all-natural chapstick of hers, the hair that comes loose from her bun wild and tangled with saltwater. And it’s so much better than the lipstick and hairspray the Tourons at the Boneyard use— _she’s_ so much better. 

She’s playing with the hair at the base of JJ’s neck, tugging on the strands to bring his lips back to hers whenever they leave the skin of her neck, her hands roaming underneath the fabric of his t-shirt, as if Kiara’s just as desperate for his bare skin to be against hers as he is. 

JJ doesn’t even have the sense to worry about himself, every atom in his body focused on making Kiara feel good, and he must be doing something right because she wraps her bare legs around his waist, the heels of her sneakers digging into spine as she pulls him closer and arches her back. 

They eventually make it back to the car, mostly because Kiara refuses to have sex in the back of a bar, which is clearly where this is heading. JJ has a bit of a problem pulling away from her, only does so when she presses a firm kiss to his lips that feels like a promise.

His hand lands on her thigh as they drive down the highway— rubbing circles over the skin of her knee like she had done to him earlier. For every inch it rises on her leg, Kie’s foot presses a little harder on the gas, until they’re well above the speed limit. 

By some miracle, they manage to find the same spot they had been to earlier. Kiara’s parking job is poor at best, but neither of them care to correct it as she grabs the old beach blanket from the trunk of her car and JJ slides a condom from his wallet into his pocket. 

They stumble through the woods, hands interlocked and stopping whenever one of them gets the urge to have the others lips on theirs again, which is often. 

It’s slower than it was in the back alley of the bar in the end, their bodies intertwined on top of the old, tattered beach blanket that still has a stain from when Pope threw up on it, feet in the sand and the silver light of the moon reflecting off of the water, catching on JJ’s rings and Kiara’s curls. 

When they finally come together, it’s perfect, the kind of moment where everything clicks into place, and all JJ can think is _fuck, why didn’t we do this years ago?_

After, when Kie rests her head on his chest and JJ throws his arm over her shoulders as they both wait for the feeling to return to their limbs, she whispers the words against his skin. 

“Come with me. Please?”

He doesn’t need to ask what she means, but Kiara says it quietly, like she’s still afraid that JJ will say no. 

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t miss a beat— he’d follow Kie anywhere, even without all of this, the kissing and the sex and the hint of there being something _more_ if he’s brave enough to stick around and find out. 

“Okay.”

“Are you sure?” Kiara asks, turning her head to look at him, which only puts about an inch of space between them, but JJ doesn’t like it and tugs her back into his side. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to—”

“I’m sure,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Kie’s head, to her bare shoulder. “If that’s what you want... I’m sure.”

“Good,” Kiara whispers, nuzzling back into his chest so that her head is directly above JJ’s heart. “Because I’m not letting you go anytime soon, Maybank.”

“That’s supposed to be my line, you know.”

It’s cheesy as hell, and JJ has never been the person who thinks about shit like this, but when he feels the tantalizing brush of Kie’s laughter against his skin, it makes his hands shake and something go taut and loose in his chest all at once. 

And then she kisses him, lips moving slow and steadily against his, as if they’ve got all the time in the world. 

And they do, JJ realizes. Because this, him and Kiara, he’s never going to get enough of it, and there’s something about the way she’s kissing him that makes him think she won’t either. 


End file.
